


Great Blue Heron

by therealgloria



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Arguing, Ending Relationship, Frustration, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 13:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealgloria/pseuds/therealgloria
Summary: “Would you lower your voice?” I hiss, leaning in. “People don’t come out to breakfast on a Wednesday morning to hear you screaming at me..."





	Great Blue Heron

“Why couldn’t we take a taxi?”

“There aren’t that many here. What’s wrong with the bus?”

“Nothing. It’s just fucking dirty. And do you even know the bus schedule? How are we going to get back?” He squints down the street in the morning light.

“We’ll figure it out. Jesus, does it really matter? It’s not that big of a deal.”

He huffs. “ _Not that big of a deal._ ”

I bite the inside of my cheek and swing the door open, holding it for him.

He goes through it without saying anything and the bells on the handle jingle as I let it swing shut behind me. I don’t think he likes that I’ve had him go first, and he stops awkwardly by the counter, his profile hazy in the smoky air. It’s loud and hot in here. I can hear a griddle sizzling somewhere in the back. I draw up to his shoulder in front of the greasy countertop and he shoves his hands in his pockets, squinting at the menu hanging on the wall.

“Didn’t you bring your glasses?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, still squinting. “Don’t wanna put ‘em on.”

“Ax, why not? No one here’s gonna say anything.”

“I just don’t, okay? I don’t think anyone’s gonna say anything.” He turns away from the menu and looks at me instead. “Just order me something, please? You know what I like.”

I can see the outline of his glasses case in his pocket. I’m tempted to argue the absurdity of this but I decide it’s not even worth it and order us both pancakes, banana for him and chocolate chip for me.

“You got it,” the girl behind the counter says around the gum between her teeth. “Hey, you’ve got some cool hair, honey. Do you two want coffee?”

I grin. “Thanks. And yes please.”

She points. “You can take the booth in that back corner, I think somebody just finished up.”

“Thanks,” I say again, and head down the narrow space between the counter and the tables, trying not to bump into the backs of people’s chairs, Axl dragging his feet behind me. I drop down into the booth and he does the same, crossing his arms on the table.

“Surprised we haven’t been mobbed yet.”

“I’m not,” I whisper, leaning across the table. “The people in here are old, Ax, they don’t know who we are.”

“They’ve probably forbidden us to their grandchildren at some point at least,” he whispers back, forehead creased. “I’m surprised that girl didn’t ask you for your autograph or start crying or something.”

“Well,” I say, tugging my ponytail, “I don’t usually wear my hair like this. And maybe she’s just being polite.”

He raises his eyebrows, as if to say he doubts a fan could do such a thing, but drops the subject. We get brought our coffee a second later, which shuts him up momentarily. 

“So how do you like it here?” I ask, tearing the end off of a sugar packet.

He frowns and whisks some of it that’s scattered off of the table. “Don’t rip it wide open like that, you’re making a mess. It’s about the same as Georgia.”

“Not really,” I say, stirring my coffee and brushing the rest of the sugar onto the floor. “There are some cool fuckin’ snakes here.”

“Is that how you’re gonna define every locale we play?” He tries to brush off the table again, even though I got everything with my last swipe.

“Maybe,” I say, blocking his hand. “I’ve already got all of it, Ax. And stop being so fucking grumpy.”

“I’m not,” he says, pulling his hand out of my reach. 

“Yes, you are. You just hungry or what?”

“I fucking hate it when you do that, you know that. I’m driven by more than just cardinal need, Slash.”

“I know you do, sorry. I just thought it might make you feel better to eat.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re in a restaurant, then.”

I give up and drink my coffee. 

“Besides,” he says, after a moment of silence, “the weather sucks down here.”

“Not that much hotter than California.”

“But humid as hell. It’s like walking through soup.”

“I haven’t really noticed, I guess.”

He twists the ring on his middle finger and stares moodily out the front window.

“How’re you feeling about tonight?”

“Fine.”

“Excited?”

“I guess.”

“Gonna drink that coffee?”

“Yeah,” he says, and picks up the mug for the first time.

We get our pancakes a couple of minutes later and I dig in. I’m hungry as fuck because I just cleaned up off of coke for the time being last week. He’s more reserved, eating slowly while I shovel my mouth full. I push my plate at him and cock my head, and he takes some, fork dripping with strings of maple syrup, chocolate smeared on the plate.

“You can try mine, too,” he says, once he’s swallowed.

I pull his plate towards me a little bit. “Thanks. These are kick-ass, don’t you think?”

“Mhm.”

“What do you want to do after this?” I ask thickly, cutting up the rest of my pancakes.

“We should head back, sound check’s at three.”

“Shit, we’ve got plenty of time. It’s barely even eleven.”

“The time’s gonna go faster than you think. We still don’t know how we’re getting back, and you’ll want to shower and warm up and stuff. And Beta’s working on my back before we go on.”

“Ah, we can be a little late, right?” I smile. “You don’t need a massage every time. And don’t you wanna explore with me?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” I say defensively. “That’s a pretty standard thing to do, don’t you think? Check out the city we’re in?”

“Okay, first of all,” he says, taking his hand off of his nose and leaning forward, “since when have you been the authority on even _knowing_ where we are? Half the time you don’t even know what country you’re in. Secondly, what do you mean, ‘we can be late’? Aren’t you the one always crawling up my ass about being on time?”

I flush. “That’s totally different, Axl.”

“Is it, though?”

“I’d get off that high horse, if I were you,” I snap. “You’re in no place to lecture.”

“I’m not lecturing and I’m not denying. I’m just saying, don’t be a hypocrite.”

“Would you stop being so abrasive? Even if I _don’t_ know what country we’re in, at least I still go out there and play my fuckin’ heart out every night, no matter where we are.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snarls, leaning towards me. “I put everything I’ve got into these fuckin’ shows. You don’t even _know_.”

“I dunno why you’d say that. You know I do. Think I’ve forgotten how you used to crash in that bunk with me? Like a crack comedown. When you actually _do_ the show, it’s still like that. I never said it wasn’t.”

He sits back forcefully and breathes out through his nose hard. “You piece of _shit_.”

It looks like he’s not going to say anything else, so I guess I have to.

“C’mon Ax, I’m sorry. Can’t we just walk around a little bit after this?”

“Fuck you, Slash.”

“Jesus, you’re impossible.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“Well, so am I.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. I said sorry. At least finish your fuckin’ food, I’m paying for it.”

He starts going to work on the rest of his pancakes and I just toss my fork down on the table with a clatter and stare at him. He needs to wash his hair. His roots are dark red and shiny with oil.

“You make it so hard to love you sometimes.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t even get me started,” he says through a mouthful of pancake.

“Yeah, God forbid.” I stare out the front window. It’s a crime that he wants to go straight back to the stadium with weather like this, even if it is humid. “I wonder what the surf’s like out there today.”

“Mm.”

“I bet Izzy would know.”

He freezes up, fork stopping halfway to his mouth. I roll my eyes so hard it hurts and grab his wrist.

“Do you have to keep fuckin’ doing that? His name’s not sacred, Axl.”

He twists out of my grasp. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Would you lower your voice?” I hiss, leaning in. “People don’t come out to breakfast on a Wednesday morning to hear you screaming at me.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck why people come out to breakfast on a Wednesday morning,” he whispers back furiously, but leans in too anyway, until our noses are almost touching. “And I’ve asked you not to talk about him to me.”

“I just mentioned him in passing. Stop being so dramatic.”

His jaw works furiously for a moment, like he’s trying not to bite me. “You are wasting so much of my self-control right now.”

“It’s not my fucking fault you’ve got abandonment issues!”

His jaw locks and I know I’m about to get the hellfire and brimstone.

“You cunt. How fucking dare you, Slash?” His voice is getting loud again and his fist is clenched so hard his knuckles are white. I get the distinct feeling it’s going to land between my eyes in a second, and it just pisses me off more.

“Are you kidding me? You just fucking joked about it the other day!”

His eyes narrow and for a second I’m sure he’s going to hit me, but then his knuckles flush as blood runs back into them. He sits back and grins at me, teeth white and artificial. 

“It’s only okay when I do it, though.”

I stare at him for a second. “You are too fucking weird for this world.”

“Mm.” 

“You know what? Fucking fine. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Yeah.”

I wave down the waitress and get us refills. Axl turns away a little when she comes by and starts examining the painting of a big blue-grey bird on the wall next to us. He’s wading through green water, long, skinny legs half immersed in the swamp, beady eyes looking for something in the thick muck. Spanish moss is dripping from the tree he’s under. 

Axl’s silly like this, worrying that the waitress is going to recognize him. I don’t see why it matters so damn much. He doesn’t like going anywhere much anymore when we tour unless we’ve got Bob or one of the other security guys with us. We used to go for walks in the middle of the night through the dark heart of L.A., when he couldn’t sleep and he’d wake me up, and we’d walk through the streets with me as his security and him as mine.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome, sweetie.”

Axl turns back from the wall when she’s gone. He’s looking good this morning, even with that greasy hair. 

“Look, I don’t wanna fight today.”

“I don’t either,” he says defensively.

“Okay then,” I try a tentative smile on him.

“It’s not that easy, Slash.”

“Sure it is.”

He just shakes his head, burying his nose in his coffee cup.

“So you’re still set on going straight back? I think I saw a smoke shop down the street.”

He sighs again. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah okay what?”

“Yeah, okay, we can wander around. But let’s not be late if we can avoid it, okay, Slash?”

“Okay,” I grin. “Sweet.”

The corner of his mouth that turns up a little bit disappears behind the coffee cup again.

“I’ll get you something. Whatever. There’s gotta be something around here you want.”

“Yeah, you.”

I smile. “You fuck. Tell me what you really want.”

“That is what I really want. But aside from that, if you know where I can get some peace of mind in Florida, by all means, let me know.”

“I’ll get you some peace of mind if you can get me some good sleep. I swear I haven’t slept a night through since Rio.”

“The coke might have something to do with it,” he says.

“Already back up on that high fuckin’ horse, huh? And you know I quit that shit a week ago.”

“For how long this time?”

I make an impatient noise. “Let’s go.”

“Fine. Don’t wanna talk about it? That’s shocking.”

“Would you shut the fuck up?”

“You know,” he says, draining his coffee cup, “you make it so hard to love you sometimes.”

“What the fuck ever, man.”

He shrugs. He knows that I hate it when he does that.

I throw some cash on the table and stand up, and this time I go first. Wave goodbye to the waitress and step out of the hot diner into the hot sunlight. 

He catches the door as I let it swing shut behind me and opens it for himself, long hair pushed back against his shoulders in the hot, humid wind that’s blowing through the palm tree over our heads. He walks over and leans against the red brick wall next to me as I light a cigarette.

“Look, we can go to the smoke shop if you want.”

“Benevolent ruler,” I mutter, fumbling with the lighter. “Want one?”

He hesitates a second. “Yeah, okay.”

I stick one between his lips and light us up at the same time. Our faces are close together as our cigarettes kiss. He needs to shave. The stubble on his jaw is darker than his hair.

“You growin’ a beard or what?”

“What?” he runs a hand over it. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“Hmm.”

He looks at me and I look at him, and something inside me aches with a dull thudding. His eyes are the same color as the bird in that painting, and I wonder how much longer we’re going to do this. 

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“’Kay.” He pushes off the wall and starts off. He’s got on plain sneakers today, scuffed and grubby white, not those dumbfuck custom ones.

“Hey, Ax, walk next to me, okay?”

“What?” He turns back, squinting, hands in his pockets.

“Walk next to me. We’re going together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He drops back and I catch up, falling into stride next to him. I can’t sleep. I wonder if he’ll buy me a new pipe to make up for his bitchiness.

I wonder if we’ll even make it back by three. I don’t know when the next bus comes.


End file.
